History Repeats
by IMTheresa
Summary: John learns of Jessica's death and struggles to cope with his memories of Mary.


**History Repeats**

**Disclaimer: **Even though I haven't posted a story here for a while, I haven't beome delusional and started to believe I own anything related to Supernatural.

**A/N:** I can't say the origimal idea for this story was mine. It came from a member of the Yahoo group, SupernaturalonTheWB. Not sure this is what she had in mind when she put it out there, but this is what I came up with.

oooOOOooo

Each time history repeats itself, the price goes up –

Ronald Wright

Love is stronger than death even though it can't stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death –

Anonymous

Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live –

Norman Cousins

oooOOOooo

He ran out of the motel room with one duffle bag and just what he'd been able to throw into it. Coherent thought was not possible as he raced along the back roads of California, but instinct told him that he had to get away and find a safe place to hide until he could figure out a next move. There was no one he could go to for help; it was too dangerous. It was nearly dawn when he stopped long enough for coffee and something to eat; he probably wouldn't have allowed himself even that luxury if he hadn't needed gas. The breakfast sandwich tasted like cardboard, but the coffee was strong. It would have to sustain him until he reached his destination.

oooOOOooo

Dean Winchester heard his brother tossing and turning in the bed next to his, but the room wasn't quite light enough for him to see anything clearly. It had been three days since Jessica died and Sam wasn't handling it very well.

Dean kept thinking about the months after their mother died. He'd only been four at the time, but he remembered how their dad had acted and how he'd suddenly changed. Looking back on it with an adult's understanding, Dean knew that their father had been devastated and that every day had been a struggle for him. He didn't know how he was going to help his brother through the same thing.

Sam called out Jessica's name and bolted up in bed.

"Sammy?"

"Leave me alone," Sam said as he walked to the bathroom.

Dean sat up and ran a hand over his short hair. "Damnit."

The bedside clock read almost 5am and Dean was sure that they were up for the day. He got out of bed and pulled on the jeans he'd left on the floor the night before.

"Sammy, I'm going out for coffee. I'll be right back." Dean hesitated for a moment, hoping Sam would say something, but when he heard the shower, Dean sighed and headed for the door.

When he came back half an hour later with coffee and doughnuts, Dean found his brother sitting at the table with his attention on the laptop in front of him. Dean took a look at the screen as he set breakfast on the table; Sam was scrolling through pictures of Jessica.

"I made sure they put one of those lemon doughnuts you like in the box," he said and sat down. "And I got you that fancy coffee – the chick at the shop remembered your drink."

Sam didn't react.

Dean pretended to be unaffected as he took the top of his cup of coffee and took a sip. He watched his brother for a few minutes.

"Coffee's getting' cold, dude."

He saw Sam's eyes dart toward him, but they quickly moved back to the screen.

"Sammy…."

"It's Sam," the younger man emphasized.

"Sam," Dean tried again. "You need something to eat and you need the caffeine. It's going to be a long day and –"

"Every day is long."

"Her parents are going to be here in a few hours."

"She has – had - a name, Dean."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, then leaned forward and looked at his brother. Always before he'd known what Sam needed and he'd always been able to give it to him. There was nothing he could say or do to make any of this easier for Sam and he hated that fact. But more than that, he felt guilty. If he hadn't come for Sam, if he hadn't been too weak to look for their father on his own, Jessica would still be alive and his little brother's life would still be whole.

"I'm sorry. Look, man, I know it's hard, but –"

"You don't know," Sam whispered.

Dean felt the sting of Sam's words, but he knew they came from his brother's pain and not from a place of anger.

"You're right; I don't know what you're going through. But people need to eat." Dean pulled the box of doughnuts closer. "Sam."

The younger man finally looked at him and, probably just for his brother's benefit, took one of the doughnuts. Dean couldn't help but notice, though, that it was the lemon one.

--

Dean watched his brother from across the room. He felt uncomfortable in the suit and surrounded by people from the life Sam had been living without him for the last two years, but he had to be here. Even though Sam was with friends, every now and then his eyes would dart toward Dean. When the older man noticed it, he thought it was because Sam was embarrassed by him, but Sam's expression quickly told him otherwise. He was doing what he'd always done as a kid when they were in an unnerving situation; he was looking to his big brother for reassurance.

As far as most of the people in the room knew, Jessica Moore had died in an accidental fire in the apartment that she shared with Sam. Only Sam and Dean knew that she'd been eviscerated and pinned to the ceiling over their bed before the fire started. The brothers were the only ones who knew that the fire hadn't been accidental, but deliberately started by something evil. They knew that it was the same way in which their mother had died over 20 years ago, but only Dean had been old enough at the time to remember what he'd seen.

The memory was vague, but Dean remembered being in his bed and hearing loud noises coming from his brother's nursery. He could still sometimes feel the heat from the fire and the weight of 6-month old Sammy in his arms as he ran from the house, his own 4-year old legs moving as fast as he could make them. He hadn't seen his mom on the ceiling over the crib, but after he was older and had heard the story, his imagination filled in the details.

Lost in thought, Dean didn't notice the woman moving toward him until she was next to him.

"You're Sam's brother, right?"

Dean noticed she appeared to be about Sam's age, a little shorter than average with dull brown hair and plain features. He nodded and shook her outstretched hand.

"I'm Rachel. Jessica and I have….had been friends since first grade."

"You go to Stanford?"

"No, I go to school in Boston, but I come home in the summer and I've spent a lot of time with Sam and Jess."

At the mention of his brother's name, Dean looked toward him. Sam was still standing with Jessica's parents and some other people that Dean didn't know. He listened to Rachel talk about things she'd done with Sam and Jessica, but he couldn't stop thinking about how surreal this whole thing was. He was standing in a room full of people, most of whom knew his brother and some who even considered him a friend. None of them knew the truth about Sam's past or that his family hunted and killed things most people only saw in their nightmares or horror movies.

While Rachel was talking, a few more people joined her and Dean. He kept an eye on Sam, but listened to the people around him as they talked about Jessica. He'd only met her once, but had spent the last several days listening to Sam talk about her. All he really needed to know what that Sam loved her.

"It's nice that you could be here for Sam and that you were a pallbearer," Rachel said a few minutes later. "You know, we were beginning to think that you weren't real."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, confused.

"Sam talked about you a lot, but never with much detail. You were like this mythical creature," she said with a smile.

Dean was surprised to find out that Sam had talked about him to his friends. He'd assumed that he was part of Sam's secret past that he wouldn't share with anyone. Dean didn't know what to say.

Rachel put her hand on his arm. "We all care about Sam a lot. Take good care of him."

oooOOOooo

It had been nearly a week since John Winchester left the dingy motel room. He'd gone to the small town of Jericho, California to figure out why young men have been disappearing on the same stretch of road over ten years, but what he found instead was the thing that had all but destroyed his life over 20 years ago.

He didn't feel any safer now than he did when he grabbed his bag and ran out of the room. He was completely out of contact with everyone he knew; for days, the only people he'd seen were gas station attendants and convenience store clerks. He'd driven for over 24 hours, stopping only for gas and anything he could eat on the road and was exhausted when he finally arrived at the cabin deep in the Oregon mountains.

He had no idea what happened to his cell phone; even if he'd had it with him, there would be no signal this far away from civilization. He wouldn't have called anyone anyway; it was safer for them if he was out of contact. He knew that Dean would be worried about him and hated not being able to tell his son what was going on, but with the thing that had killed Mary on his tail, John couldn't take the chance that it would find Dean. Until John knew how to protect the people he cared about, he would have to stay away from them.

He knew he couldn't hide in this cabin for very long, though. He'd picked up some food in the last town he went through, but he only had enough for a couple of days. He would just stay long enough to get some rest and plan his next move. Unable to contact any of his usual people, John would have to go it alone until he had the resources to kill the thing that had taken his wife.

--

John left the cabin in the early morning hours three days after he got there. He knew where he was going, but he wouldn't be able to take the direct route. In the first big city he reached, John stopped for necessities, including a new cell phone. He used a fake credit card for the purchase and pre-paid minutes card and his first call was to pick up the voice mail from his previous service.

As expected, there were several messages from Dean, but he couldn't bring himself to listen to all of them. John knew how much Dean hated to be alone and even though they often hunted separately, Dean's fear had been manageable when he knew where his father was. John tried not to think of how frantic Dean must have become when his calls went unreturned and he wasn't surprised to hear the message that he'd gone to Palo Alto to get Sam.

Even though Sam had left the family, not without some help from John, and had not spoken to either his father or brother in almost two years, it didn't surprise John at all that Dean would turn to Sam for help. He hoped that his younger son was receptive and that they were together now.

Despondant, John tossed the phone aside and flopped down onto the bed in the motel room he'd secured for the night. Staying out of contact was going to be harder than he had expected and all he wanted at the moment was to go to sleep and forget about everything. Though not an alcoholic, he was not unaccustomed to turning to alcohol to get through the night, but even that held little appeal for him.

John was on the road early the next morning. Since rushing away from Jericho, he'd gotten very little sleep. He spent most of the day driving along back roads and when he did allow himself to stop for some rest, he spent over an hour going through a protection ritual that didn't help him feel any safer. He'd been afraid to admit it before, even to himself, but he'd known for a long time that it was a demon that killed Mary. That same demon had found him in Jericho and had been close by ever since. John was sure he'd lost it a few times, but it was hard to hide from a demon for very long.

oooOOOooo

It had been more than two months since Jessica's death and the brothers were no closer to figuring out what had killed her than they had been to finding out what happened to their mother. The only thing they knew for sure was that the women were killed by the same thing. They'd stayed in Palo Alto for two weeks and had found nothing that they didn't already know.

Dean still called their father every day, leaving messages that he had no way of knowing if they were even received. Dean refused to believe that he was dead, though there was no real reason to believe otherwise. He just kept telling himself that he would know; he'd somehow feel it if their dad was dead. He tried not to think about it too often and he had enough other things on his mind anyway.

Sam had thrown himself back into hunting with such vigor that Dean was constantly on guard. It was supposed to be him that was the impulsive one, but lately he'd been so busy pulling Sam back from the edge that he barely had time for anything else. The younger man was also plagued by nightmares and often woke up with Jessica's name on his lips. Dean knew how to handle a lot of things, but his brother's anger and heartache were not on that list.

Talking about feelings wasn't exactly the Winchester way, but even Dean knew that sometimes it was necessary. He tried more than once to get Sam to open up and even though he had shared a lot of information about Jessica, Dean still got the feeling there were things Sam wasn't telling him. It wasn't that he needed to know every detail of their lives, even though he was more than a little curious, but until that morning, he'd had no idea what was causing Sam to feel so guilty.

They brothers had not been able to pick up a trail on their father and in the meantime had agreed to hunt evil creatures and help innocent people. Dean was proud of how well Sam had retained his hunting and fighting skills even though he certainly wasn't keeping up with either on the Stanford campus. Despite the distance their separation and Sam's secrecy had caused, they fit together as a team as if no time had passed.

Dean knew that this wasn't the life his brother had wanted. He'd run away from it and apparently had never looked back, but now that he was in it again, Sam seemed determined to do as much good as possible even though he often went off half-cocked in a way that scared Dean. What scared him even more than that, though, was the mere idea of where they were headed now.

Lawrence. The mere thought of their hometown caused Dean to shudder and even though he knew there was a family there that needed their help, he would prefer to be headed anywhere else. Dean swore to himself that he would never go back there. He'd only been four at the time, but he remembered the night his mother died and he didn't want to go back to the place where it happened. But they had to go.

Sam told him he'd had a dream about their old house and the young family who seemed to be living in it. He also told Dean that it felt the same way as the one he'd had about Jessica's death before it happened. For weeks before it happened, in fact. Dean didn't like the idea that his brother was having visions, but at least he knew what Sam had been keeping from him.

oooOOOooo

John had still not spoken to any of his contacts. In fact, the closest thing to a conversation he'd had since leaving Jericho was with motel clerks and waitresses. He spent as much time alone as he could, but it was starting to wear on him. It wasn't the isolation, really. He didn't mind being alone, but he hated not knowing what the boys were up to and that they were safe. Even when Sam was at school, John would check up on him whenever he was in the area even though Sam would have no idea he was there.

John still believed that it was necessary to stay away from his sons to keep them safe, but he'd changed his strategy slightly. He'd started to worry that if he hid from the demon too well, it would lose interest in him and go after Sam and Dean. He didn't know what the demon was up to, but John knew it hadn't been far away since finding him in California. And he was still convinced, as he had been since soon after Mary died, that its ultimate goal had something to do with Sam.

oooOOOooo

Dean pulled up to the house he'd spent the first four years of his life in and Sam saw him look toward it. He could only imagine what his brother was feeling. He knew that Dean dimly remembered their mother and when they were kids, Dean had told him stories about her baking cookies, reading to him and tucking him in at night. Dean and their father had always spoken of her in hushed tones, their voices thick with emotion and she seemed like some mythical goddess to the youngest Winchester.

He couldn't see Dean's face, but he could read his body language. Sam knew his brother was in pain.

"You gonna be all right, man?" Sam asked.

"Let me get back to you on that," Dean said, glancing at him briefly.

Standing on the porch, Dean knocked on the door and when it was opened by a young blonde woman, Sam felt something cold in the pit of his stomach. She was the woman in his dream and he had expected to find her here, but it was still hard to accept.

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," Sam heard his brother say. "But we're with the Federa –"

"I'm Sam Winchester and this is my brother, Dean," he interrupted. "We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by and we were wondering if we could come in and see the old place."

"Winchester," the woman repeated. "That's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

"You did?" Dean asked, surprise evident in his voice.

She nodded and stepped aside. "Come in."

Jenny introduced herself and her two children after leading them into the kitchen. The young Richie was in a playpen on the other side of the room, bouncing and calling for his juice. Ten year old Sari was sitting at the table. After a little small talk, conversation quickly turned to the house. Jenny complained about how the lights often flickered, the sink being backed up and how she had heard the scratching of rats in the basement.

Sam knew that those things often indicated supernatural activity and wasn't surprised when Dean asked if she'd seen rats or just heard the scratching. Clearly his brother had the same idea.

"Mom?" Sari began, shyly. She continued when her mother knelt down beside her. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

"What Sari?" Sam asked, trying not to appear alarmed.

"The thing in my closet," the little girl said with an air of confidentiality.

"Oh, no, baby. There was nothing in the closet." Jenny told her, then looked at the brothers. "Right?"

Sam's smile froze on his face. "Right. No, no. Of course not."

Jenny smiled apologetically. "She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming," Sari insisted. "It came into my bedroom and it was on fire!"

--

"You hear that?" Sam demanded as they approached the car after a quick tour of the house. "A figure on fire."

"And that woman, Jenny? That was the woman in your dream?"

"Yeah. Did you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights….both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"Yeah, well," Dean hesitated, clearly trying to control his emotions. "I'm just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin' true."

Sam didn't like the way Dean said it, but he wasn't surprised that his brother was distributed by the dreams. "Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house? Do you think it's the same thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know."

Sam was panicked and used to his brother having all the answers. "Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been there the whole time?"

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam. We don't know yet."

"Those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get 'em out of that house!"

"And we will." Dean's voice sounded rational, but Sam saw the fear in his eyes.

"No, I mean now!"

"And how you gonna do that, huh? You got a story that she's gonna believe?"

Sam felt deflated. "Then what are we supposed to do?"

--

The brothers were quiet as Dean drove from the house and across town. Sam didn't realize he was going to take the turn into a gas station and the sudden movement startled him. He got out of the car as Dean did and stood close to him while he pumped the gas. They'd both had a few minutes to calm down and collect their thoughts so they could make some coherent decisions about the job at hand.

"So, how much do you actually remember?" Sam asked as they leaned against the back of the Impala after a pause in the discussion.

"About that night, you mean?"

Sam nodded and waited for his brother to continue. He could see that Dean was still struggling with his emotions and though he hated to see Dean that way, he still needed him to be the big brother; the guy with all the answers.

"Not much," Dean said finally. "I remember the fire; the heat. And that I carried you out the front door."

Sam looked at him. Their father had told them about that night a million times; he and Dean had talked about it, too, but he'd never heard that Dean carried him out of the house.

"You did?"

"What? You didn't know that?"

"No," Sam shook his head.

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do."

Dean went through the few facts their father had shared with them over the years, but Sam was barely listening. He'd always thought that Dean was a hero – his hero – but he couldn't imagine what it had been like for Dean that night. He'd thought about it before, but finding out that it was Dean who took him out of the house changed everything.

"So," Sam began when he realized Dean had stopped speaking. "If we're gonna figure out what's goin' on now, we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it's the same thing."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah. We talk to Dad's friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time."

"Does this feel like just another job to you?" Sam asked, trying not to sound as afraid as he felt.

Dean cleared his throat and didn't answer. "I'll be right back. I gotta go to the bathroom."

Sam watched him, concerned, until he'd turned the corner.

--

_No,_ Dean thought to himself. _It's not just another job, Sammy. _

He stood next to the bathroom door and pulled his cell phone from a pocket. Glancing behind him to make sure Sam hadn't followed, Dean dialed the number he'd been calling every day since their father disappeared. He felt sick when he got the all too familiar voicemail message. He waited for the beep.

"Dad?" Dean found it hard to speak. "I know I've left you message before. I don't even know if you get 'em. But, uh, I'm with Sam. And we're in Lawrence. And there's somethin' in our old house."

Dean paused to clear his thoat, barely keeping the tears at bay.

"I don't know what to do," he said as he lost the battle and his voice cracked. "So, whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please. I need your help, Dad."

oooOOOooo

John was close to his destination and he could sense that the demon wasn't far off. He didn't think he was just being paranoid; the closer he got to Blue Mound, Minnesota, the more he was aware of the demon. It was almost like a constant presence and John never felt like he was entirely alone.

His ultimate objective was to find Daniel Elkins. Daniel had been the one to initially teach John about hunting and though the old man had spent years denying it, John was convinced that Daniel possessed a weapon that could kill anything. John had decided long ago that he didn't just want to send the demon to back to Hell. If he did that, it would only crawl out again and he wanted to make sure that his sons would never have to fear it again.

John had tried to persuade Daniel to give it to him and looked for it himself, but until now, there was no particular motivation to find it because he didn't know how to find the demon. Even so, Daniel's lack of cooperation had eventually led to their falling out.

John had no idea where Daniel was living these days. He'd lost track of him after a while, but hoped that his old friend in Minnesota would have the information. The problem was that John also had a falling out with him. It seemed to be the pattern in his life, but he had no patience for people questioning his decisions; especially those involving his sons.

Jim Murphy had lasted longer than most of John's friends, primarily because he rarely pushed John. He made his opinions known and then backed away. He was also important to the boys, but after Sam left for school, Jim had stepped over the line he'd carefully avoided for so long.

In spite of their distance, John was certain that he wouldn't be turned away. Not only was Jim the compassionate leader of a church an unaccustomed to ignoring someone who needed help, he genuinely cared about John and his family. It wasn't his decision to sever ties, or to even ignore them. John had taken that stand and given Jim no choice in the matter.

Sitting across town from Jim's home, John dialed the private number that would ring in the house as well as in his church office. The call was answered quickly.

"Hello."

"It's John."

"Where the hell are you?" Jim demanded. His voice was angry, but John also heard relief in it. "Dean has been calling and –"

"You've got quite the mouth for a man of God," John said, hoping to calm his old friend.

"Where are you, John?"

"Here. Across town. I need to see you."

"Of course." Jim didn't hesitate. "Come to the house."

"I don't know if that's safe. I –"

"It's as safe as anywhere else, John. You know that."

John took a moment to consider that and realized Jim was right. His house was owned by the church so it was afforded the same protection as any holy place. In addition, Jim had taken other precautions.

"I'm on my way. Thank you."

--

John knew the streets of Blue Mound, Minnesota as well as he'd known Lawrence when he lived there. It was a small town, not hard to navigate, and had been a home base of sorts for a while when the boys were very young. John usually felt at peace when he was in Blue Mound, but not this time. Not with the demon back in his life.

After parking in front of Jim's house, John walked to the side entrance. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even used the front door. Normally he let himself in, but considering the precarious state of his current relationship with Jim, John opted to knock instead. The door was opened quickly.

"Come in," Jim said as he stepped aside.

John did and paused as Jim reaffixed an amulet to the deadbolt lock. John knew that was just one of many things keeping the supernatural world out of the house. Jim turned to face him, his expression one of concern. Even though Jim appeared not to be angry, John felt uncomfortable under his gaze. As if sensing that, Jim moved forward and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank God you're all right. Dean's been calling. He –"

"He's been leaving messages on my voice mail," John confirmed, holding onto Jim. For the first time in weeks he felt safe, and it wasn't just because of the house.

"Where have you been?" Jim asked a few moments later as they settled at the kitchen table. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine. Well…." John shrugged and looked away. "I'm not hurt, anyway. Jim, the demon…."

John felt the lump form in his throat and the tears suddenly well in his eyes. He didn't notice when Jim leaned forward, but he felt the man's hand on his wrist. Jim had been John's confidant since the boys were little and there was probably nothing he didn't know about the night Mary died.

"It found me. It's back," John managed to say.

"I know."

John was confused. "What?"

"Dean told me. He –"

"What does Dean know about the demon? I never even told him that I –"

"He told me about Jessica."

John felt cold. He knew that Sam was living with Jessica Moore, another Stanford student. He'd seen her during his secret visits to Palo Alto and couldn't miss the look in his son's eyes when he was with her.

"Jessica?"

Jim looked at him, his brow furrowed. "The demon killed her, John. The ceiling, a fire…."

"What?" John could barely breathe.

"You said Dean had been leaving messages. I—"

"I haven't been able to make myself listen to all them. I….The demon killed Sammy's girlfriend?"

Jim ran a hand over his face. "John, I assumed you knew. I –"

"What happened? Is Sammy all right?"

"He's with Dean," Jim said as if that explained everything. "They're looking for you and doing other jobs along the way. John, I --"

"Sammy's hunting?" John's head was spinning and he was having a hard time comprehending what Jim had told him.

"Come with me," Jim said as he stood up.

John didn't question him. He simply stood and followed him out of the room and down the hallway. They moved to the den that also doubled as Jim's office and John sat on the familiar leather couch. Jim opened a drawer in the big mahogany desk across the room and removed a bottle of what John assumed was Scotch. He took two glasses from a book shelf and then took a spot on the couch.

"Drink this," Jim poured a shot.

John's hand shook as he reached for the glass. Suddenly all he could think about was Mary. He could see her the way she'd been that night; dressed for bed in a white nightgown, her long blonde hair loose. He saw the blood fall on little Sammy's head and then onto his own hand before he looked up to see the impossible site of her pinned to the ceiling and eviscerated. He could feel the heat from the fire as she to burst into flames a moment later.

He got the glass to his lips, but only managed a sip of the drink. John felt his stomach begin to turn and he let the glass fall to the floor as he jumped up and raced for the bathroom across the hall. He hadn't eaten anything for hours, but what little was in his stomach emptied into the toilet. He endured several minutes of painful dry heaves, dimly aware of Jim's hand on his back.

"Are you all right?" Jim asked as John leaned back against the wall.

"Can you give me a minute?" He felt weak.

"Sure," Jim patted John's arm and stood.

"Jim?"

The pastor looked back at him from the doorway.

"Don't call the boys."

John saw the disapproving look that flashed across Jim's face before he nodded agreement.

Alone in the bathroom, John didn't move. His head rested against the wall, his eyes closed.

How could this have happened, he wondered. He'd run when the demon had found him in California, how had it located Sam? And why would it kill Jessica?

John's head was spinning. All this time he'd kept to the back roads and small towns, hoping at first to hide from the demon, then to lure it into following him….He'd just wanted to keep it away from his sons. Had the monster known where they were all along? All the years since Mary died, had it known?

John felt overwhelmed. Ever since he'd recovered from the initial shock of his wife's death, since he'd found out the truth about the supernatural and learned to hunt, he'd felt like he knew what he was doing. He knew what choices to make because it all seemed to be written out for him. But now….now it was as if he'd been thrown back in time to when he knew nothing.

He'd learned to trust his instincts and they were still telling him that the boys were safer on their own. John knew that didn't make sense, but instinct often overruled logic.

John felt as if he'd been hit hard in the stomach. He knew what Sammy was going through because he'd gone through it himself. His son's only advantage was having grown up knowing about the supernatural and how his mom had died, but John knew that wouldn't make things easier for him. He was glad the boys were together. Dean had always somehow known instinctively what his brother needed and he would be able to take care of him in a way John never could.

Somewhere in the back of his mind was the thought that Dean had no experience with this kind of loss. John would have preferred to find some other way to bond with his younger son, but losing Jessica was certainly something that could bring them closer together.

That stupid fight….he still couldn't believe he'd told Sam never to come home if he left for school. John had been afraid that something would happen to Sammy if he or Dean wasn't around to protect him and all he could think to do was forbid him to leave. He knew that wouldn't work; not with Sammy. He had always been headstrong; determined to do things his way….that was something else father and son had in common.

After several moments, John stood up on shaking legs. He cleaned up, carefully avoiding his reflection in the mirror. He found Jim in the kitchen, busying himself by making a simple meal.

"How are you feeling?" Jim asked as John poured himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee.

John leaned back against the counter. "All right. Sorry."

Jim looked at him. "I'm sorry I blurted it out. I just assumed you'd gotten Dean's messages."

"It's okay. It's my own fault for not listening to them," John took a long sip of the coffee. "You've talked to them?"

Jim nodded, turning his eyes back to the soup that was heating on the stove.

"When did it happen?"

"Right after you left Jericho. Dean had gone to Palo Alto to ask Sam for help. Sam agreed to go with him for the weekend; he had a law school interview and couldn't be gone longer."

"Law school? How did it go?"

Jim shook his head. "He didn't go. He got home Sunday night; that's when it happened. He withdrew from school or got some kind of leave granted."

"How's he doing?"

"Why don't you call and find out for yourself?" Jim's tone was neutral and John noticed he kept his eyes on the soup.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Jim, the demon has been following me since it found me in Jericho. I can feel it."

Jim looked up sharply. "The demon is here?"

"I think so. I haven't developed any special ability to sense it, but my instincts are telling me it's at least nearby. At first I was trying to hide from it completely, but I thought it would go after the boys if it couldn't find me," John sighed sadly. "Maybe that's why it killed Jessica."

"Why is that keeping you from calling your sons?"

"Something is telling me that it's safer for them if we're apart."

"Bullshit."

"You've got quite the mouth on you for a man of God," John smirked.

"Don't try to charm your way out of this, John Winchester. You know that crap isn't going to work with me. I know you better than just about anyone else and I know you're scared. And not just scared of the demon."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're afraid of Sam."

"That's ridiculous. I –"

"Not of what you think he might eventually become, but of what he is now. He's not like you or Dean. He isn't as good at hiding his pain as you two have become and you're afraid of approaching him after that asinine ultimatum you gave him about school."

John didn't respond.

"He loved Jessica, John. You know exactly what he's going through and you know damn good and well that as capable as Dean is, he's not prepared to deal with what losing Jessica will do to Sam."

"You about done?"

Jim glared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Go sit down. The soup is almost ready."

The two men ate in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. They'd disagreed before and there had been breaks in their relationship, the most recent being the longest, but there was only a handful of people that John trusted and Jim was at the top of that very short list. Other than his sons, Jim was the closet thing John had to family.

"What happened in Jericho?" Jim asked later, once they'd settled back into the den.

"I was there investigating disappearances; tracked it down to a woman in white. I –"

"Yeah, I know about that. Sam and Dean found your motel room; they have your journal."

"Good. I put coordinates in there. I figured once Dean hadn't heard from me in a few days, he'd try to get Sammy to help. Even if he didn't, I needed him to stop looking for me."

"You sent them after a wendigo knowing they'd think you were going to meet them at the coordinate site?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"I'm trying to keep them safe, Jim. They took care of the job?"

Jim sighed and nodded. "You sent them to Rockford for the same reason?"

John nodded. "Do you talk to them a lot?"

"Not very often. Dean checks in to see if I've heard from you."

"What will you tell him the next time he calls?"

"You know I won't lie to him. John," Jim leaned forward. "I don't understand. The demon killed Sam's girlfriend; it knows how to find them. Why is being separate from them still so important?"

"I thought it was because I'm afraid of Sammy."

"You're a bastard, you know that?" Jim's voice held no real anger and John saw the affection in his eyes.

"I know," John sighed.

"So," Jim got comfortable again. "The news about Jessica hit you pretty hard. You want to talk about it?"

"Nothing much to say. It was just a shock and knowing the demon is back, after all this time….I've been thinking about Mary a lot the last few weeks."

"You gonna be able to handle this?"

John nodded. "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

They sat quietly for a few moments, John's thoughts on his wife.

"You know you're welcome here any time, even when you're being an impossible ass, but you came for a reason."

John hesitated and then nodded. "Do you know where I can find Daniel Elkins?"

Jim looked surprised. "You're serious?"

"That shocks you? He has that weapon, Jim. I know he does. And now that the demon is back…."

"If he does have it, or knows where it is, what makes you think he'll tell you? He spent years denying –"

"I have more motivation now for getting the truth from him."

"You could have just called me for that. Why did you make a special trip here?"

John looked away.

"Tell me," Jim urged. "Talk to me."

"You understand me. And no matter what happened before, I knew you'd let me in. I needed a friendly face. It's been so hard….thinking about Mary, not talking to Dean. I just needed…."

John reached into his pocket when his phone began to ring. He saw Dean's name on the screen and sighed to himself.

"It's Dean, isn't it?" Jim asked.

"Yeah," John's throat felt raw.

"Just answer it, John."

"I can't," he whispered, staring at the display.

"John, you –"

"I can't, Jim! If I do, I won't be able to stay away and I have to! Until I know how to keep them safe and until I know what Sam's supposed to become, I have to stay away!"

Mercifully, the phone stopped ringing, but a moment later it beeped to alert him to a new message.

"I've pretty much left the boys' lives up to you," Jim said. "Except for a couple of notable exceptions. I'll do that now, but in exchange for something."

"You're bargaining with me now?" John managed to ask.

"I'll tell you where Daniel is, but you agree to at least listen to the boys' messages. You have to do at least that much."

"And you won't tell Dean where I'm going?"

Jim stared at his friend for a moment before he nodded, clearly reluctant.

"Where's Daniel?"

"I'll get his address while you listen to the message."

--

Jim headed to his bedroom where he had the contact information for various hunters safely hidden. He didn't agree with John that he needed to stay away from the boys, but if he fought him too vehemently another year would pass without contact. With the demon back, that was unacceptable and dangerous. At least he'd gotten John to agree to listen to the messages his children left and that was better than nothing.

When he got back to the den, Jim found John still on the couch, his face as white as a sheet.

"What's wrong?" Jim asked, sitting next to him.

John looked at him, disbelief on his face.

"John? What did Dean say?"

"They're home. They're in Lawrence."

"Why?"

"There's something in the old house. Dean wants my help….says he doesn't know what to do."

"John –"

"I have to get to Lawrence. They'll find Missouri….I have to go. You have Daniel's address for me?"

Jim nodded and handed over the piece of paper he'd written it on. "You're not okay to drive. You –"

"I'll be fine, Jim. I just….I have to go."

Jim followed him to the door, trying to convince him that there was a better course of action, but John was determined to do things his way. Jim could tell he was near panic and not thinking as clearly as he should, but maybe that was for the best. If he went to Lawrence and talked to the boys….And what if he'd been wrong about the demon following him?

"Be careful," Jim said as he pulled John into a bear hug before he touched the doorknob. "Call me."

A moment later, John was gone.

--

As he drove toward his old home, John tried to keep his thoughts elsewhere, anywhere other than on Mary, but he couldn't manage to get her out of his mind. He could still see her face as vividly as if she was riding in the truck with him. He could hear her voice and even smell the perfume she used to wear.

John remembered the day they'd met. She'd been a student at the university and working as a waitress at a diner near campus. He was new in town, just passing through really, but with no place he actually had to be, Mary's infectious smile and vivacious personality convinced him to stay.

She wasn't the kind of woman he was normally attracted to. She was beautiful, but she had more on her mind than a one-night stand. Actually, at first she hadn't been interested in him at all, but he'd managed to wear her down for a first date and a year later, they were married. He'd never pictured himself as a husband, but Mary brought out the best in him. They'd talked about having children, but he'd been scared to death when she told him she was pregnant.

She'd told him that he would be a good father and he'd desperately wanted to believe her. His own childhood had been very unhappy and he had no idea how to be a good father, but Mary's faith in him had given him confidence. Having Mary by his side made him feel like a better man and the moment the doctor put Dean in his arms, he'd felt like he could do anything.

Their house had been filled with love and John had thought he had everything. Then little Sammy came along and somehow things got even more perfect.

But now something was in that house again. Was it the demon? Had he been wrong about it following him? Or was it something working in concert with the demon to lure the family back? He'd suspected for some time that the demon had plans for Sammy. Was it time to execute those plans?

Sammy. Jesus. He was twenty-two years old, but when John thought of time in terms of his younger son, it seemed like just a moment had passed since he'd been born. He hadn't been alive nearly long enough to deal with so much of what had been thrown at him, but certainly not what had just happened and what might be to come in Lawrence.

It didn't always look like it, but there was nothing more important to John than his sons. He sometimes got lost in the hunt, but it wasn't really the vengeance that spurred him on. He wanted to make the world better for his boys, a safer place, and that included finding and killing the thing that took their mother. Not for revenge, but because it had something in store for Sam.

John's thoughts turned to Jessica and how he'd failed her, just like he'd failed Mary. He hadn't been able to save either one and now Sam was going to suffer. Again. It seemed somehow, he was always letting his sons down. Dean didn't seem to notice, but that didn't make John feel any less guilty. John had been put in an impossible situation all those years ago and though he did what he thought was best, it often didn't feel like he'd made the right choices.

--

John parked a few blocks away from Missouri Moseley's house and walked the rest of the way. He knew Dean would recognize his truck if the boys came by and he didn't want them to know he was in town. Not yet; maybe not at all.

He'd spoken to the psychic who showed him the truth about his wife's death only a few times over the years. She had promised to keep an eye on the house and let him know if anything else ever happened in it.

John hesitated, his hand hovering close to the doorbell. He was suddenly reluctant to see her, but he didn't have a choice when the door opened a moment later.

"Are you going to stay out on the porch all night?" the short woman demanded. "Get yourself in here. Had quite an evening with your boys."

They settled in her living room and Missouri told John about the poltergeist that had taken up residence in his old house. She also told them about the hours she and his sons spent cleansing the house of the entity.

"They boys are all right?"

"Physically. John," she hesitated. "I…."

"What?"

"Sam has…."

"Sam has what, Missouri? What's going on?" John was too tired to sound very afraid, but that didn't stop him from feeling the fear.

"He's got psychic power, John. The boys didn't tell me everything; some of it I figured out for myself, but he sensed that something was in the house and that's why they came here."

John looked at her. "It's starting."

Missouri nodded sadly.

"You know the demon got his girlfriend," she said after a moment of silence.

"Yeah," John whispered.

"It's brought up some memories for you."

John noticed it wasn't a question, but Missouri didn't have to be psychic to see his pain. "Yeah, it did. I can't stop thinking about Mary. Even after all these years, I still miss her."

"It's not easy to lose someone you love," Missouri agreed in a sympathetic tone.

"And there's still so much mystery around it. It's been over 20 years and I still don't know much more than I did the night it happened."

"That isn't true, John. You have a lot more information; you just haven't been able to put it all together yet. And there's more to find out, no doubt."

John picked up the cup of tea that Missouri had set in front of him earlier. "The boys missed so much not knowing her. Dean remembers little bits and pieces, but not much. He was so young and Sammy….well, he was just a baby. I never saw myself getting married, you know. I was too hard, too comfortable with freedom. Mary changed all that. She made me want to live in one place and raise a family."

Missouri got comfortable beside John and let him talk. She knew most of this from their past conversations and some of it she had learned with her ability. It didn't matter. John needed to verbalize it all again, after which he could focus on the crisis at hand.

John smiled sadly. "You know my dad was abusive; used to hit me and my brother. Our mom, too, but she drank a lot and didn't notice. My brother died in a motorcycle accident when he was 16."

"How old were you?" Missouri asked, although she knew the answer.

"I was almost 19; already in the Corps. I still feel like I kind of let him down by leaving him alone with our father."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for living your life, John. Are your parents still alive?"

"No. My mother drank herself to death not too long after my brother died and my father ended up with cancer." John looked at Missouri. "Where are the boys now?"

"Said they were going back to their motel. They're coming by tomorrow before leaving town." She looked John in a way that made him wish he could hide somewhere. "They also said you disappeared."

John began to tell her about Jericho, but she interrupted him. "They're your children, John. You shouldn't be hiding from them. They need their daddy. Sam especially."

"I told you why I can't see them right now."

"Why did you come here, then?"

"It's Lawrence," he said, looking at her through is tears. "There was something in the house. I had to know. I…."

He heard Missouri sigh and felt her hand on his wrist. "It's late. I'm tired and I don't have to be psychic to know that you are, too. Stay here for the night. They boys will call before they come over. If you choose to stay pigheaded, I won't tell them you're here. Can't promise you that Sam won't sense you, though."

"He's got that much ability?"

Missouri shrugged. "Seems that way. And it scares him. Scares Dean, too."

John said nothing.

"The spare room is ready for you," Missouri walked across the room, but paused at the door. "You raised good boys, John. They're strong, smart and very capable. But they're not ready to be alone quite yet."

She didn't wait for John's response.

--

The phone call that came the next day happened much earlier than Missouri had expected. And despite her ability, she wasn't expecting the news it brought. Despite their best efforts, Jenny's house had not been cleansed. The poltergeist remained; along with something else: Mary Winchester.

Missouri rushed out of the house after dressing quickly and telling John the very basics of what she'd learned in the short phone call.

John drank coffee and paced while Missouri was gone. He was so close to rushing over to the house more than once while he waited, but knowing that what he'd expected for years was finally starting to happen, he was more determined than ever he needed to stay away from the boys. He needed to concentrate on finding a solution, an end, to the problem….The boys were his weakness and if he saw them, he wouldn't be able to do what he knew he had to. He had to find out what was happening to Sam and find a way to make sure both boys were safe. Forever.

John was on the couch when Missouri walked into the house. He didn't see her at first, but he could hear her.

"That boy…he has such powerful abilities. But why he couldn't sense his own father, I have no idea."

"Mary's spirit –- do you really think she saved the boys?" John asked when Missouri had walked into the room.

"I do."

John nodded sadly and twisted the wedding ring on his finder.

"John Winchester, I could just slap you. Why won't you go talk to your children?"

He felt the tears in his eyes. "I want to. You have no idea how much I wanna see 'em. But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth."

"The truth," Missouri scoffed. "Those boys need you."

"I'm thinking of the long-term, Missouri. I couldn't save Mary; Jessica. I'll be damned if I don't save my boys."

He avoided Missouri's steel gaze until she'd softened and sat down next to him.

"I'm worried about you, John," she put a hand on his wrist.

"I'm worried about myself," he admitted, feeling an immense sadness. "Where do you think Mary is now?"

"Where she's always been, John. In your heart. And in your boys."

He wanted to go to his sons. He wanted to spend time with Sammy and listen to everything he had to say about Jessica. John knew that despite his desire to be _normal_, Sam wouldn't give his heart easily and he wanted to know more about Jessica than the statistics that he'd been able to find. He wanted to help his son through the pain of losing her, but like he'd told Missouri, he was looking at the long-term. It wouldn't do Sam much good to have his father with him now if it meant losing out to the demon later.

John missed Dean, too. Even when they hunted separately, they spoke every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. John knew how much Dean hid behind his carefully constructed mask, but every now and then the softness of his mother's smile played on his face.

John tried, but he couldn't contain the tears any longer. After more than 20 years, he still missed his wife and the life that they'd had. He still loved her with all his heart and knew he always would. He hadn't been able to save her, but he could save her children. She'd given her life for them twice and John owed her at least that much.

He felt Missouri squeeze his hand before she left the room to allow him to grieve privately. He would allow himself the moment, but it couldn't last long. He had work to do.


End file.
